


I Hate What I've Become

by alexenange



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 10/10 would reccomend that song, A shitload of angst, Fire, Gen, Inspired by Music, Minor Character Death, its intense yo, specifically the song story2 by clipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenange/pseuds/alexenange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Laurens is on his way home from work when he hears that all too familiar screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate What I've Become

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes this is super short yike yike yike

John sneered at the ground as he started walking, feeling the distinct urge to punch someone in the face. Seriously, those fucking drunks had no sense of personal space if another _goddamn_ person tried to grab him and pull him close he was gonna fucking--

What? What was he gonna do?

Would he take the lighter in his pocket and set fire to the vodka? Would he molotov the whole place? Would he stand there and watch the bodies burn, would he listen to their screams?

Like he did with those families?

Those children?

John stopped in his tracks, feeling sick. All his energy seeped out of him and he felt like he was being filled with mud. Heavy, disgusting, filthy mud.

He started shaking as memories took over. The way he could always tell the difference between the parents and the children because the children stopped screaming sooner. They never told him when he had to burn children. He had to find out on the job. He found out when they were already burning.

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, suppressing his gag reflex. He starting shaking his head like he was trying to shake the memories out of it but no matter how hard he shook he could still smell the sulfur and the burning carbon he could still feel the ash--

His eyes snapped open when he realized that the feeling of ash on his skin wasn't a memory. It was falling from the sky above him like snow.

John never liked the snow.

His breath came quicker as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. With shaking fingers he called home. He felt like the world was stopping as it rang. He felt like it shattered when it sent him to voicemail.

He barely registered the sound of his phone clattering onto pavement. He didn't register any noise, any feeling, anything at all. He vaguely registered that his legs and lungs were burning but nothing could stop him he was filled with nothing but pure adrenaline, fueled by his fear.

He had only one thought before they were slaughtered; first things first, he was always their father.

The explosion was so close he could taste the sulfur on his tongue, the air laid thick with smoke. His lungs were irritated, burning. His voice was hoarse as he screamed.

"Did you get them out? _Did you get them out?"_

No one answered him.

His house was nothing more than char and toxic gas but he kept stumbling forwards, trying to enter it, trying to go home. He just wanted to see his baby girl again. He would give anything to see her smile, alive, well, happy.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was a suicide mission, running into the house. It was probably the reason he kept pushing on. The reason he fought against the strong arms he thought belonged to Hercules as he was rocked to the ground where he fell, sobbing. Over and over again he found himself shrieking words that hurt his throat more than his conscience.

_"Why won't you just let me die?"_

**Author's Note:**

> So I might (and by that I mean almost definitely) expand this into a universe and do a whole lot more with it but here for now have some feelings because my brother was being une putain de connard and karma's a bitch


End file.
